


An Abbotsford Man

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7664206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne and Dot bring refreshments to a pick-up footy game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Abbotsford Man

**Author's Note:**

> This started from a discussion about what Jack does in his down time (prompted by a recent post on Tumblr on the same theme). And then there were thoughts about Jack and Hugh playing footy for fun. This is the result. 
> 
> Thanks for the prompt, ladies!

“Hugh said they’d be at this park just up here, miss,” Dot said, pointing.

Phryne pulled the Hispano-Suiza up to the curb, her eyes on the open grass and the group of men running toward their makeshift goals.

“Did you know they’d be playing footy, Dot?” She asked, setting the brake and turning off the engine. She tilted her round sunglasses down on her nose, scanning the group of men.

They were all running and shouting, passing the ball from hand to hand. Half of them wore white singlets, and the other half variously striped vests. She spotted the red and green of Abbotsford, the dual blues of West Melbourne, and even a black and white Collingwood one among the bunch.

“Of course, miss. That’s why I needed you to drive me. I’ve brought the refreshments.” Dot bustled out of the car and around to the boot.

Phryne followed, her tan driving coat swirling around her. Dot opened the boot to reveal a box of thermoses and another of glasses.

“I’ll need Hugh to help me carry them—I had to have Bert and Cec put it all in the car. It’s lemonade. And I made fresh biscuits.” She turned her sunny smile onto Phryne.

“Shall we go closer, then? Watch until they’re ready to take a break?” Phryne couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the field and all of those lovely, fit men.

She waited as Dot pulled a blanket from the boot, closed it, and headed over to a shaded area under a large tree that had a clear view of the footy players. Spreading the blanket out, Dot and Phryne settled themselves side by side. Phryne spotted Hugh on the side wearing the singlets—she remembered the young constable’s considerably muscled arms from watching him box. He was a little more disheveled than she’d seen him before, his singlet wet with sweat and his face red with exertion. His team stood in a circle—likely discussing a plan of attack—and Phryne perused the group of men, particularly the assets that some of them were showing as they leaned in to listen.

Suddenly, she sat up straight. She’d been looking at the very… defined assets on one of those men with his back to her when he stood up, his hands on his hips. He moved in a way that she was very familiar with, having watched it almost daily for almost a year.

“Is that Jack?” She glanced at Dot, who was watching the action, nibbling on her thumbnail.

“I’m sorry, what was that, miss?” Dot blinked and turned to Phryne, who was staring at the action again. The team in white had lined up and were preparing to toss the ball up to start the game play.

“There, getting ready for the ball-up. That’s Inspector Robinson!” Phryne’s eyes swept over Jack. He wore the same black shorts and tall socks as the rest of the men, along with his white singlet. His muscular thighs and calves were on full display, as were his biceps—and she’d already noticed the high, tight globes of his ass.

“Oh, yes miss. Hugh said something about being a man down, and that he’d asked the inspector to step in. He said it had been some time since the inspector had played, so he’d likely be a bit rusty, but that he’d probably appreciate the invitation.” Dot’s eyes were back on the game, her cheeks flushed.

“I see,” Phryne said. “And did the inspector know that he was meant to be rusty? Because it looks to me like he’s running rings around those other men.”

Sure enough, Jack was in the thick of things, pounding the ball with a closed fist or open hand toward one of his teammates, then running to receive it and get it farther down the field. He slowed just long enough to take a kick at the ball, sending it sailing over the heads of the opposing team and into the area marked as the goal.

Phryne and Dot yelled in triumph along with the rest of Jack’s team, and several of the men looked over at them with a grin. Hugh grinned and waved at Dot, who waved back. Jack looked stunned for a moment, then smiled, shaking his head. Then both men headed back into the fray.

It was lovely to watch, Phryne thought. All of the men were shouting good-natured insults at their opposing team, laughing and catcalling as the game progressed. Hugh and Jack both seemed different than she was used to seeing them—louder and more open. Fifteen minutes later, the singlets team had scored twice more, and the vests were admitting a laughing defeat.

Jack and Hugh came jogging over to where the women sat, and both Phryne and Dot breathed in deeply as they advanced. Both men were smiling, their hair loose and curling over their foreheads; their arms and thighs glistening with sweat. Phryne felt a punch of pure lust hit her as Jack got closer, and she blinked, trying to hide it. She and Jack had been dancing around each other for a long time now, and when they’d returned from Maiden Creek there’d been a moment when she thought he’d been ready to take the next step. But he hadn’t. At least he wasn’t keeping his distance anymore—the weeks in which he’d stayed away had been surprisingly painful; she’d missed him tremendously.

“Hello, Jack! You’re quite the footy player, I see,” she greeted him with a smile as he stepped closer, bending over to catch his breath. She caught a whiff of him—clean sweat flavored with a hint of his pomade. Delicious.

“I’ve done my turn on the field,” he said, his small smile familiar. “I used to be pretty skilled, back in my academy days.”

“You were amazing, sir!” Hugh’s smile was wide as he stood beside Dot, his feet planted and hands on hips. “I had no idea you could play like that. I hope you’ll come and join us again soon.”

“We’ll see, Collins,” he looked at Phryne. “What are you doing here, Miss Fisher?”

“Oh, Dot brought refreshments,” Phryne said lightly, looking over at her assistant. “Didn’t you, Dot?”

“Oh! Yes, I did—they’re in the car. Will you help me carry them, Hugh?”

“Of course, Dottie, I’d be happy to.” He held out a hand to help her up and the two of them walked toward the car, shoulders bumping companionably.

“Won’t you sit down, Jack?” Phryne gestured to the blanket beside her.

“I’m all sweaty,” he demurred.

“I don’t mind a bit of sweat,” she murmured, smirking at him as she pulled off her sunglasses. He was even more delightful to look at without the shading. The sun glinted on bits of gold in his loosened hair, and she could see the soft tufts of hair under his arms—it was ridiculous just how intimate that hair seemed when she’d hardly ever seen him without a full three-piece suit.

“You’ll mind this in short order.” His voice was dry with humor. “I’ll likely mind myself before too long.”

“Come for dinner tonight, Jack?” Phryne blurted out the invitation with none of her usual finesse. “I mean, if you’d like to, of course.”

Jack’s expression had been startled at first, but it quickly gentled into pleasure. “I’d like that very much, Miss Fisher.”

“Good, then. Eight o’clock sharp.” She smiled at him almost shyly.

“I’ll be there.”

When Hugh and Dot returned with the thermoses of lemonade and the tin of biscuits, trailing the rest of the players, Phryne and Jack were sitting quietly in the shade, side by side, and not talking at all.


End file.
